


What Could Be

by secondstar



Series: nowhere to go but everywhere [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Future Fic, Linguist Derek, M/M, Shower Sex, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondstar/pseuds/secondstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief look at a the life of Derek and Stiles, after coming home from traveling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could Be

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd.  
> I may expand this into a long fic, because I'm sort of in love with the details of their life I built here.  
> Originally a tumblr ficlet. You can find me there as attoliancrown.

Derek travelled, a lot. He flew to Europe at least three times a month, sometimes to South America or India. After shit went down in Beacon Hills, well, after it was done with once and for all and the Nemeton was put back into some magical form of hibernation, Derek went back to school and got his Masters in Linguistics from MIT. From there, he’d gotten his Doctorate while studying abroad at the University of Edinburgh. A bonafide polyglot, Derek spoke six languages apart from English: Russian, Spanish, French, Japanese, Arabic, and Polish. As a hobby, he studied Gaelic, because he wanted to. 

His closet was full of suits, all designer, that replaced his trademark henleys, tank tops, and jeans. He still had them, but barely got to wear them. He always had a suitcase half packed in the corner of his and Stiles’ room. They had a loft together in NYC, along with Derek’s loft back in Beacon Hills that they’d renovated when they still lived there. They used it whenever they visited, which was a handful of times throughout the year. 

Stiles, well. Stiles transferred schools three times, and changed his major twice because he didn’t know what he wanted to do, then decided to take a sabbatical. He’d be going back to school in the fall, this time at Cornell, to finish his Masters in Anthropology. In the meantime, he backpacked his way through Europe, where ever Derek was sent to. Derek believed that Stiles, never having left the country prior to their multiple escapades to Mexico when he was in High School, had a sense of wanderlust that his major helped bring to fruition. In Paris, during Derek’s down time, they went to museums where Stiles spent hours walking the halls. Derek took him to his alma mater in Edinburgh, where Stiles spent days in the library researching for fun. 

Derek practically had to drag him out of it. 

For one Christmas, they visited Egypt because neither of them had ever been. In some ways they were nothing like the younger versions of themselves when they first met, but in others they were exactly the same. Stiles spoke with his hands, his body never ceasing when he talked about whatever he was passionate about. Derek, still, though had a tongue for language, rarely spoke unless he had something to say, and even then it usually dripped with sarcasm. 

Their apartment, which was sizable for New York, was crammed with books. Bookshelves lined the walls, with two desks that made up their small living room instead of a couch and TV. Their TV was in their room, where they watched it in bed. They had a King, which took up most of the room, that was high enough off the ground that it had drawers beneath it for clothes that weren’t hung up in order to conserve what precious space they had. 

They’d been gone for weeks, going from New Dehli, to London, then Tokyo, back to New York. With barely a foot in the door, Derek was about to collapse. 

“Oh, god,” Stiles said as he shut the door behind them. “I missed our home.”

“Me too,” Derek said as he shrugged off his messenger bag, placing it in the chair of his desk as he breathed in their scent, their home. It smelled of books, of _them_ and whenever he came home it enveloped him in a way that no words could describe. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, his chest pressing against Derek’s back as he kissed along Derek’s collar, squeezing him tight. 

“I’m going to shower, want to come?” Stiles asked, leaving his backpack by the door. 

“I think you remember our shower being a lot bigger than I do,” Derek laughed as the water turned on. 

“We can fit,” Stiles called out, throwing his shirt into the hallway, followed by his jeans. Derek thought about not joining, but the flight from Tokyo had been long, too long, and planes always made him feel disgusting. Though bed called to him, he stepped into the bathroom to find Stiles naked and brushing his teeth as the shower warmed up. He smiled at Derek through a mouthful of toothpaste suds, then spit it out. “We can totally fit.”

Derek undressed himself slowly as Stiles watched him in the mirror, leaning against the sink as he enjoyed the view. When Derek’s clothes littered the floor, he mouthed at Stiles’ shoulder, making a face at the stench of plane and stale air. Stiles spit into the sink one last time before Derek pulled him towards the shower. He had just enough time to turn off the faucet. 

They hadn’t kissed since they left their hotel room in Tokyo almost twenty hours prior, and Derek felt Stiles’ body melt against him as he moaned, their mouths open as their eyes closed at the comfort of being in each other’s arms. Stiles let Derek envelope him in his arms, grabbing his ass in order to bring them closer together. As they continued to kiss under the shower’s spray, Derek felt himself getting hard as he moved his hips against Stiles. Stiles broke free, his mouth dragging across Derek’s shoulder as Derek mouthed at Stiles’ neck, sucking and marking him. Stiles grabbed the body wash, running his hands over Derek’s body and then his own as Derek took the shampoo, massaging it into Stiles’ hair. Stiles tilted his head back, exposing his neck as he rinsed his hair. 

There wasn’t much room in their shower, but there was enough for them to maneuver as Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’ erection, stroking him as Stiles bit his lip as he watched. 

“Fuck, yeah,” Stiles moaned as he held onto Derek’s biceps. “Fuck, one day we’re going to join the mile high club.”

“No,” Derek grunted as he twisted his wrist. Stiles laughed as his body shook, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder. Derek kissed Stiles’ ear, nipping at it. “We definitely wouldn’t fit in there.” Stiles huffed out a laugh as he curled his toes, his mouth open against Derek’s neck as he let out breathy moans as Derek fondled his balls, teasing at his taint. 

“Shit,” Stiles said, his teeth raking across Derek’s skin as he held onto his ass, spreading Derek’s cheeks as a finger slipped between them. Derek groaned as he rocked his hips against nothing, seeking friction. Derek pressed them together, their dicks sliding against each other so that he could grip both of them at once. They moved in tandem, fucking up into Derek’s fist, their moans echoing off the tiled walls of the bathroom as they came. Their kisses lingered as their come washed away, Stiles’ fingers subtly scratching against Derek’s beard that he desperately needed to trim down to stubble. Stiles smiled against the kiss, stilling for a moment to look Derek in the eye before delving back in, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. Derek turned off the water, stepping out of the shower with Stiles, hoisting him up by holding onto his thighs. 

Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, holding onto Derek by hooking an arm around his neck as Derek walked them towards their bedroom, soaking wet. They didn’t lose eye contact as they neared the bed. 

“We’re still wet,” Stiles said before Derek tossed him onto the bed. 

“I didn’t think it through,” Derek admitted fully, which made Stiles smile before he kissed him again. 

“Come on, put me down,” Stiles admonished, tapping Derek’s shoulder. 

“No,” Derek said petulantly, rubbing his beard against Stiles’ skin, making him hiss. 

“Hey, no, no,” Stiles said, covering Derek’s chin with his hand. “No stubble burn.” 

“Oh?” Derek asked, lifting an eyebrow. He put Stiles down, then buried his face against Stiles’ neck, scenting him. Stiles rested his hand on the back of Derek’s neck, tilting his own so that Derek had better access. They didn’t do this often, only when Derek needed it, and after the travel they’d done he was exhausted and wanted comfort, comfort which he found in Stiles. Stiles’ fingers carded through Derek’s hair, then back down to his neck again slowly. 

“Hey, want to dry off there, big guy?” Stiles asked, his voice hushed. Derek sighed, letting go of Stiles. Stiles kissed him, then disappeared into the hallway where they kept their towels in a small closet that couldn’t fit much else in it besides linens. Stiles emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, another on the floor where he walked on it, mopping up the mess they made on the nice hardwood floors. He tossed Derek a spare towel, then began fully drying off. 

They dressed in companionable silence, Derek putting on nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs. Stiles, though, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, sans underwear, and a t-shirt before he pulled back the covers of their bed. It was a feather duvet, given to them by Stiles’ father and Melissa, as a Christmas gift two years prior. It kept Stiles warm in the winter, even though Derek was his own personal heater.

Derek made sure to deadbolt the door, as well as move their luggage out of the way for the morning. He turned off all the lights, since he could see without them, then made his way towards their bedroom. Without setting an alarm for the next day, he climbed into bed, where Stiles had already faceplanted onto his pillow, spread out like a starfish. Derek pulled Stiles close, maneuvering him easily. Stiles feigned resistance, though he fit perfectly against Derek, his back to Derek’s chest. Their fingers intertwined as they both drifted off to sleep, road weary. 

They had time to recover before they headed to Budapest, enough time to do laundry, at least.


End file.
